Small Moments
by spottedhorse
Summary: It is the smallest moments in life that often hold the greatest joy.
1. Precious

This idea just sort of popped into my head. It has no plan nor any end in sight; it just is a feathery idea. I'm going to add to this every so often, as the mood strikes. It might involve any or all of the characters; I simply don't know where it is going yet. But each chapter will be about something small and simply, a part of everyday life at Downton Abbey that normally gets taken for granted. But ocassionally, those moments take on a special meaning. I do hope you enjoy.

* * *

"We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures. " Thornton Wilder

* * *

He walked into her room… their room, just as O'Brien left through the other door. There was nothing special about the evening; it was a night like so many others. Yet as he stepped further into the room, something came over Robert Crawley, whether it was a mood or a thought…or perhaps an epiphany, he was not certain. But he stilled and watched as Cora did what she had done so many other nights in his presence, she was massaging a lotion into her hands.

Why should that thrill him so, he wondered, amused. But even as silly as it felt momentarily, he was mesmerized. His eyes followed every movement, every caress. There was such beauty in that simple act; not beauty in the usual sense, although she did have beautiful hands, but beauty in what those hands meant…to him.

Those hands, her hands….they had held his in difficult moments and in joyous ones. They soothed him in times of grief and despair and they caressed him in times of happiness. And at night, when they were left to their own devices behind the doors to her room, oh…what those hands did to him then. It made Robert quicken and grow warm to simply let his mind brush over those nights….and on occasion, afternoons too.

He knew the gentle strength of those hands, of her. He also knew of her passion, in part through her hands. And suddenly the book in his own hands seemed a ridiculous notion. What sane man would bring a book to bed when the bed would contained a wife as beautiful and passionate as his wife? What fool would prefer the feel of the musty pages of the suddenly cumbersome article to the feel of her…of her hands on him? He tossed the book aside, into a nearby chair, as if it had suddenly caught fire. But it wasn't the book that was burning; it was the man.

Cora saw his action in her mirror and turned to look fully at him, a question in her eyes. He smiled at her warmly, lovingly and shrugged. "I don't feel like reading tonight," he said simply.

Her expression grew coy and she blushed slightly. He marveled at the idea that he could still make her blush after all these years. Standing there, a ridiculous grin on his face, he felt his chest becoming far too tight to hold his heart. He opened his mouth to speak but faltered, "I…"

Rising from her bench, Cora moved toward him. "What, my darling?" she asked as she stood before him, her hands, those beautiful hands, reaching for him.

"I…" he tried again. Then lifting an eyebrow, he surrendered. "Sometimes you leave me breathless,' he finally admitted.

Her hand settled on his chest and began to rub the space over his heart. "How can I help you…get your breath?" she teased.

Covering her hand with his and holding it still over his heart, he looked into her sparkling blue eyes. "Take me to bed and let your hands work their wonders," he whispered.

"Anytime, my darling…all the time," she said as she took his hand and led him to the bed.

Later, as she lay curled in his arms, those magnificent hands of hers against his chest, her fingers gently stroking through his hair and tracing lazy lines, he thought about how close they had come…how close _he_ had come to loosing this. Swearing a silent oath to himself and to her, he resolved never to let go of the small things, the simplest moments between them, for they were the most precious.


	2. Lovely

"...before you, life was desolate - the past hardly worth remembering - and now, each moment a keepsake I can't throw away ..."  
John Geddes, _A Familiar Rain_

She moved away through the hallway, her steps as measured and careful as his yet much more poised and graceful; a perfect foil for him in many ways... so very many ways. He had a heart, though he was reluctant to show it, except to her and then only on the rarest occasions. No, everyone thought him to be uncaring and blind to their troubles; everyone except her. She knew him better. But still at times she was harsh with him, accusing him of being cruel and heartless and all the while her words and expression tearing at that very same heart. And when they had exchanges like the one just concluded, he felt empty and afraid. For her opinion had come to have great meaning to him.

He had chosen this life. At first it had been a haven for him, far away from the embarrassment and shame of his former life, the life he hardly even remembered anymore. Oh, sometimes he would feel the loneliness but generally he had enough to fill his days and send him to bed in the evenings too tired to wonder about what might have been in a different life. But lately, sometimes it wasn't enough; sometimes he wasn't tired enough to ignore his feelings and simply sleep; sometimes all he could think of, dream of, was her.

It had started as a small thing, a niggling in his mind, a flutter in his heart from time to time. But when he realized she was ill and what that might mean, suddenly it all became crystal clear. And as happy as he was at the good news of her good health, he had also been confused by the rush of emotions he had experienced over the weeks of wondering.

But then things had settled into a nice, even nicer than before, rhythm between them. Things felt more familiar between them…more comfortable than ever. Of course there were awkward moments but that was to be expected, wasn't it?

Tonight however, tonight had been different. It had begun with her defense of the new maid. The silly woman had mixed up the linens and Lady Grantham had noticed, causing him quite a bit of embarrassment. And then when Alfred and James got into a spat, she had intervened before he had even known about the incident. The footmen were his responsibility and she knew that. Why on earth had she stepped in? And then she got angry with him after he countermanded her resolution to the issue. But what did she expect?

Her words had been sharp and clear and had cut through him. She had accused him of being arrogant and full of himself. And then she had called him pompous. It had hurt, more than if anyone else had said those words. It hurt coming from her because she knew him better, knew his fear. Why had she said those things to him…in that tone?

Charles Carson sighed as she turned the corner and disappeared from his sight, and suddenly he felt cold. Shaking his head, he returned to his duties, finishing up for the night. It was much later when he turned off the light to his pantry and started through the hall to retire. His steps slowed as he saw a light under the door to her sitting room. She was up unusually late, he mused. Stepping quietly towards the door, he thought he heard a sound, an unpleasant one from inside. Uneasily, he tapped on the door. "Mrs. Hughes?" he called out.

"I'm alright," she called back, not opening her door to him. But she didn't sound alright and alarms sounded in his mind. Carefully he opened the door and there she sat, tears running down her face, a sight he couldn't remember ever seeing before. "Whatever is the matter?" he asked gently as he eased forward.

"I'm fine," she insisted.

Turning to close her door, he grunted. Then moving close to her, he shocked her by kneeling beside her chair. "You are not fine. Something has upset you. Please, tell me," he cajoled.

"I'm sorry," she said, glancing at him nervously. "I shouldn't have said those things earlier."

"Well, they did sting, I'll admit…especially coming from you. But I'm alright, no harm done," he said softly.

"But…I wanted…I…." she fidgeted with her handkerchief and wound it in a knot, something he had seen her do many times when she was upset.

"You wanted what?" he coaxed.

"Not that…not cross words exchanged. I'm afraid I've been out of sorts lately. Nothing serious… It's just… well… do you ever wonder?"

"Wonder? About what?" he asked, perplexed.

"About what it might have been like, to marry and have a family…" She was twisting her hankie again.

"I have wondered," he said quietly. And then a realization came to him. "I've actually wondered that a lot lately."

Her head shot up, her eyes meeting his. "You have?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "It seems that lately I've thought I might have missed something very special with someone very special. But it was fear, you see. I was afraid that if anything changed, I might loose what I have and that would be….heartbreaking, I think."

Lose what? Your place here, at Downton? Times are changing and…well, look at Anna and Mr. Bates."

"Perhaps… But that's not held me back. I thought if I said anything…did anything, I might loose that which is most precious to me."

Elise Hughes searched his face for his meaning. "Most precious? What could that be?"

It was as if time stopped in that moment, as if it froze for an instant as he met her gaze. He saw the yearning there, felt it within himself. And he knew the time had come to be open and honest. "You," he answered simply.

"Me?" she asked uncertainly.

"Yes. Lately it seems every word, every look, every moment with you is a treasure, the most valued moments of my day. And I've been afraid that if I said anything, it would spoil it all and I would lose those moments…lose you. And I couldn't bear that, I think."

Tears began to puddle in her eyes and she tried to blink them back. "You…are you saying….?"

"I'm saying that the reason I've been acting the fool is because I'm afraid. I've developed feelings for you that under most circumstances would be frowned upon but I can't seem to help how I feel. And …I …want to feel these things."

Her eyes glistened. "I…I believe I must have similar feelings for you as well," she admitted. "I've been content to just…let them be for quite some time. But recently, I find myself asking why not have something more?"

His face softened as his dark eyes studied hers. Then slowly, carefully, he lifted his hand to her face, his fingers resting along her jaw as he used his thumb to wipe away her tears. "I would like that very much…that something more," he said in a whisper. "Do you think…might we begin with…a kiss," he dared ask.

"I think that would be lovely," she replied tenderly.

* * *

This couple is growing on me. But I don't feel like I have their voices yet. Still, I hope you enjoyed.


	3. The Lucky Lord

The Lucky Lord

"Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies,

those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world."

John Milton

It all had threatened to overwhelm him. The birth of his grandson followed so closely by the death of his heir; euphoria followed by heartache and despair once again. The news of Matthew's death had hurt in so many ways. It had been Matthew's vision that had set Downton on a sustainable course for the future and as the current caretaker of the estate Robert knew what the younger man's death might mean for those plans. But that wasn't his first thought, his first thought had been about Mary. How would she manage this? And then his own grief filled him, a crushing pain filling his chest. But he pushed it aside to see after Isobel, who seemed broken in the wake of the horrible event. Several days passed with Robert trying to ignore his own grief in favor of helping the two women who were most affected.

It was Cora who recognized his state. It was she who finally made him face his own grief one night in the privacy of their bed chamber. It was she who held him as he sobbed over the young man who had been the closest he would ever come to having a son. And as she held him, she sobbed too.

Cora stood next to him as they went through the motions expected by tradition and society, his unfailing pillar of strength. The days passed slowly and the nights seemed longer as they passed through one of the worst periods of their lives. But Cora was always there for him, always available with kind words, a loving hug, a soothing stroke of her hand. Cora, his Cora…

He had told her just before they left Scotland to return to Downton how very grateful he was for Matthew, his life, his family, and most especially his wife. But on this particular September evening as he watched her managing the still grieving family, Robert Crawley realized that for the first time in weeks he was feeling something other than heartache. It was gratitude that filled his chest on this evening, gratitude for his wife.

He watched in awe as she quietly moved around the room; a word here, a quiet smile there, a hug for Isobel in shared understanding of the grief of losing one's child. In fact, Cora was able to help Isobel when others were helpless because only Cora understood from bitter experience what Isobel was feeling. And on the days when no one seemed to be able to cut through Mary's mantle of grief, only Cora was able to make an impression. As Robert watched his wife, appreciation threatened to overwhelm him.

Finally it was time to retire. As everyone disappeared behind their various doors, Robert caught Cora's elbow just outside hers. She turned and looked at him, surprised. "I just wanted to say," he began as he looked into her weary face, "how much…how wonderful I think you are…how grateful I am for you."

Her features broke into the first truly full smile she'd shown in weeks. "Robert," she whispered demurely.

"I mean it, Cora," he said softly, tears gathering in his eyes. "I don't know how any of us would have made it through…how I would have."

Her eyes glistened as she looked up at him. Slowly her hand made it to his face, resting along his cheek. Words weren't necessary between them in that moment as they gazed at one another through watery eyes. But Cora finally broke the trance to instruct him. "Go and change and then come to me; who knows, perhaps tonight will be lucky for you," she said in a lighter, teasing tone.

Covering her hand on his face with his own, Robert smiled down at his wife. "I will hurry," he said, "but my dear, since the day you married me, I have been the luckiest man on earth. Whenever you walk into the room, I feel my heart swell until I think it will burst."

Cora leaned up to kiss him, which he returned unreservedly. Then in a husky tome which Robert had come to know well over the years, she responded. "Well, we can't have you bursting; I feel it is my duty to provide you some relief," she teased.

Robert grew frustrated as Bates helped him change for bed. The man seemed slow this night. Finally Bates helped him slip into his robe and smirked. "You seem anxious tonight, Mi'lord."

Tying his sash, Robert turned and smiled at his valet. "Tonight Bates, I was reminded of how very lucky I am despite the heavy cloud that has been over this house; very lucky indeed." Then quickly he retreated to Cora's room to celebrate his good fortune.

* * *

I keep thinking I'll include other pairings but my mind keeps wandering back to Robert and Cora for these little snippets. I do hope you enjoyed this one.


	4. Golden Glow

No one really thought that I wouldn't write a small moment...or two for this ship, did they? Really?

* * *

"Conviction brings a silent, indefinable beauty into faces made of the commonest human clay; the devout worshiper at any shrine reflects something of its golden glow, even as the glory of a noble love shines like a sort of light from a woman's face"

Honore de Balzac

* * *

He stepped into the drawing room, a last minute addition to the guest list for a grand dinner of some sort the Earl and Countess of Grantham were hosting. He had dined with them on other occasions, of course but that had been before…

Of course the first person he saw was her…Lady Edith. He'd had hopes of her becoming lady Edith Strallan once but that had been many summers ago, before…

Lady Mary was there as well, talking to young Matthew Crawley. The last time he had seen the two together they seemed to be quarreling. Time heals all wounds, he supposed. But for Anthony Strallan…Sir Anthony Strallan of Locksley, there was one wound that would not heal. When the invitation to dinner had arrived, he'd thought perhaps the occasion might help him mend.

But as he stood, watching her across the room, his wound was ripped open and his heart was bleeding. He'd seen her briefly that day at the Dowager Lady Grantham's house. They'd exchanged a few words, the usual pleasantries. He'd been forced to explain his arm, seen the despair in her eyes, and as quickly as was polite had made his exit. She had not looked at him that day as she had before….

Tonight she was wearing a green dress in a shade that complimented her coloring perfectly. And in the lighting of the drawing room she cast a golden glow that, at least in his eyes, shone like the golden glow of morning. He stood frozen, drinking in the sight of her and silently screaming at whatever force it was that made him fall so irreparably in love with her. He would have gladly groveled at her feet, worshipping her for the rest of his days if she would have him. But her feelings had been made quite clear to him that day at the garden party before the war took over their lives. It wasn't anything she said, not him directly anyway. But it was made clear…

Much to his surprise, she was moving toward him. Probably just being polite, his mind warned him. But the glow of her smile and the sparkle in her eyes made his heart leap, just as it had before….

"Sir Anthony, I'm so glad you are here…"

That made polite talk until dinner was announced. Lady Grantham had him seated at the far end of the table from Lady Edith, so he could only content himself with glances her way. He was astonished to realize that she was glancing his way as well and seemingly with a twinkle in her eyes. His bleeding heart performed somersaults in his chest as the meal progressed.

After dinner, after the drinks with the other men, after the polite chatter when the men joined the ladies, after all of that, she approached him again. This time she pulled him aside, away from listening ears. "I was hoping to get a chance to speak with you tonight," she said, "alone."

He couldn't imagine why. Still, he waited, holding his breath to hear what she had to say.

"There's something I need to explain….and apologize. I know you were hurt at the garden party…what Mary said to you. She was angry with me you see, and hurt you to get back at me. But those things she told you I said about you….I never said them, never thought them. I wanted to tell you as soon as I realized what she had done but by then, you had already left for the war. You were going to ask me a question that day…you said you were anyway. And just so you know, my answer would have been yes." She looked at him with such a glow in her countenance that it took his breath away.

"Lady Edith…I…." he couldn't form words in his mind, let alone in his mouth. But he must, he knew he must. "I would have been honored by your answer. And you say Lady Mary's words were untrue and I accept that…" he tilted his head in acquiescence. "But perhaps it is best I never asked," he admitted.

Her eyes dulled and then she blinked and she stared deeply into his. "But why?" He had obviously and very unintentionally hurt her.

Shrugging, he swallowed uncomfortably. "Well, I'm so much older, you see…and there is this," he said as pointed to his arm in the black sling that seemed to be his constant companion.

"Your age never mattered to me. In fact, I think it is part of what drew me to you; most men my age bore me... always have. And as for your injury…while I'm certainly not happy that it happened to you, I'm quite sure it bothers you more than it does me. It does not make you less of a man," she implored. "In fact, I think you were quite brave to go to war. You didn't have to and no one expected it of you, I'm sure."

"Thank you for that," he bowed his head slightly. "But it has changed me, you see. I'm not the same man and…"

She laid her hand over his arm, his left one and the sensation was electric. He could see that she felt it as well. "Anthony, the war changed us all. But I know that you are, at your very core, the same man."

Laughter sounded from close by and they both looked up, realizing they had become far too absorbed in their own conversation for this setting. Then she looked back at him. "This isn't the place to discuss this. Why don't we go for a drive tomorrow, like we did before the war?"

"I would like that," he conceded. "But I don't drive any longer…my arm, you see."

Edith smiled at him warmly. "Then what time shall I pick you up at Locksley?"

Intrigued by her directness and enchanted by the golden glow of her that evening, he agreed to the ride. And as he let his eyes drink in more of her, from her reddish-golden hair, to her glowing face, to the creamy white skin that graced her neck and shoulders…and the hint of bosom her dress allowed, he realized that while he might be a changed man, he was still very much a man in love with Edith Crawley.


	5. Ageless

He watched her in front of the mirror and recognized the expression, although it had been some time since he remembered seeing it; years in fact. But she was displeased; not angry but disappointed in what she saw, although he couldn't fathom why. Still he remained seated on the bed watching her, enthralled. It wasn't often that he got to do this, watch her making the finishing touches on her day, massaging in the last bits of lotion or capturing a lose strand of hair that hadn't been caught in her ribbon. It always captivated him.

Finally with a deep sigh, she moved from her vanity to the bed. Climbing in, she was careful, shy almost. That didn't escape his notice either. "Cora is something the matter?" he asked with concern since she seemed so unhappy.

"No, nothing is the matter," she answered evenly, not giving away her displeasure with her voice.

A furrow formed between his eyes as she replied. He didn't like the defeat in her eyes. "But you seem…."

"Just tired Robert, old and tired…" She huffed and rolled to her side. But her words had enlightened him and he leaned over to her, nuzzling his mouth into the crook of her neck, his lips brushing her delicate skin. "Surely not that old," he teased before kissing her tenderly behind her ear.

"Old enough…" she sighed.

Confused, Robert remained still as he tried to decide how to proceed. Finally inspiration came to him. Nuzzling again, he caressed her with his tongue. "Not that old," he whispered against her ear. "Old women don't do to me what you are doing to me now."

She turned and glared at him. "I'm not doing anything," she declared.

Lifting the covers and looking down at himself he chuckled. "I beg to differ, my darling. You are creating quite a response in me."

She snorted. "Well, dirty old men respond to most anything."

He grinned, happy to see some life returning to her eyes. "Perhaps. But I bathed today so I'm not dirty and I don't consider myself old; especially after having watched you these last few minutes."

"You were watching me?" she asked nervously.

"Yes; I find you quite…. fascinating. I love to watch as you rub in your lotion. Is that what keeps your skin so perfect, my love…the lotion? Or am I the one getting old and you simply appear so much younger to me now?"

"Robert, you know that I am only two years younger than you, so you can't be so much older and have me be young," she said in frustration.

"Hmmm, then we're both younger than you think," he winked. "Besides, I see nothing wrong with you, even if you are as you claim….old."

"Nothing wrong? My skin is sagging and so are my breasts," she declared, making his cheeks color at the mention of her intimate parts. "And my stomach is no longer taut and sometimes my joints ache and my hair is turning white and…"

He stopped her with a kiss. Once he was done, he took up the tirade. "And you glow and look more beautiful than ever. I can't remember you ever looking as beautiful to me as you do now. You've always been beautiful Cora but there's something now about you, something I can't explain that makes you even more enticing. Some days I can't think of anything else but you, wanting the day to end so I can be here with you, like this."

"Oh Robert, stop trying to appease me. I know what I see in the mirror."

He looked across to her vanity mirror and sighed. "Then I suppose we should purchase a new one. That one is obviously flawed if you see anything but your beauty when you look into it. Honestly Cora, most women lose their good looks as they age but you wear your age so gracefully, like a beautiful swan that glides over the water."

Cora snorted her laughter. "Swans are quite awkward and ungraceful out of the water, you know."

"But that's just it, my darling; you are never out of the water. You move through life with such grace and poise. And any signs of age that do appear seem to enhance your qualities, not detract from them."

"Now you're just being a silly romantic, hoping that will settle me." Her annoyance showed in her expression as her eyes rolled and then whipped a glance at him.

With a sigh, Robert looked back at her. "Then I shall have to show you." Gingerly he reached for the laces at the top of her gown and fidgeting for a moment, undid them, his finger tips brushing against her skin teasingly. Once he had the ties undone, he carefully scooted the fabric aside to expose the creamy white skin beneath. Equally as careful, he used his index finger to draw a line down, forcing the fabric away from the lovely crevice between her breasts. He leaned over, planting tender little kisses along her neckline and then upwards to her ear and across to her mouth, encasing it with his lips.

He felt Cora's response, the one he'd intended. She relaxed and her body slackened, cuing him to her willingness for more. While his lips continued to engage hers, his fingers drew lazy lines along the fabric of her gown, running across her décolletage and then down into the sweet valley between her breasts. His kisses broke long enough for him to whisper, "so lovely" before he deepened them, his tongue dancing with hers. Her hand went to his head, her fingers in his hair, mimicking the motions of their tongues.

She whimpered when his hand claimed her breast, his fingers first trailing over her mound before circling his intended target, her tiny peak. "This afternoon… I don't know what caused it but your little peaks were quite prominent,' he whispered. "I rather enjoyed it," he added as he pinched her little erection.

"I was thinking of you," she moaned. "You looked so…hmmm, desirable in ummm…. In your shirt sleeves," she sighed as he tweaked her again.

"I wondered why you looked at me as you did. It was a good thing my trousers had plenty of room; the way you were looking at me was causing difficulties."

"Don't be silly Robert," she said a little more firmly. "I don't do that to you anymore."

"Yes, you do," he teased as he took her hand in his. Pulling it down, he pressed her hand against his manhood, which was fully at attention. "I've been fighting this all day, what with the way you looked at me and your delicious little tease in your summer dress. It was all I could do to keep from throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you upstairs."

"Oh Robert, you exaggerate."

He heard the pleased annoyance in her voice was relieved that he was achieving his goal. "I do not," he insisted. "And I must say, it was rather difficult sitting through the meeting with Murray and Tom when all I could think of was getting you off someplace to myself."

"Then why didn't you come find me?"

"By the time they left, Mary said you were at Mamma's. And the dressing gong rang just after you arrived home. I can't even tell you what we had for dinner since all I could think about was how hungry I was for you."

She nibbled at his neck, her hand remaining over his groin and occasionally moving in the most exciting manner. Rolling her onto her back, he sat up and studied her thoughtfully. "I think this needs to go," he said as he tugged at her gown. "I want to see you…see all of your glorious body."

She wiggled and moved as he worked at her gown, finally pulling it over her head. Robert took a deep breath once the gown was discarded and she lay there completely nude. "Oh my god, Cora… what you do to me," he said huskily.

"Really. Let me see," she smirked as she tugged at his clothes. Quickly he tossed them aside, now as naked as she. Robert's eyes widened as he saw her wonton expression as she gazed at his now very large and quite flushed member. "Oh my…you are in a state."

"As I've tried to tell you," he grinned. Using his fingertip, he drew a trail around her breasts and then down her abdomen, circling her navel before delving into her most private region. Flushed with lust, his heart beating rapidly, Robert skimmed over her lightly, teasing the hairs of her lusty valley. Feeling the moisture that was already gathering, he delved in, letting her warmth and dampness bathe his fingers. Cora gasped as he did, her body arching, asking for something more.

"Cora?" he asked, not wanting to be too much in a hurry but recognizing the condition they both were in.

"Yes…now …please," she keened as her body responded to his touch.

Moving over her taking in the sight of her heightened state, the flush of her skin, her hardened nipples, and the lust in her eyes Robert knew he would not last long. Her legs spread for him, allowing him entry. Once they were joined he held himself over her, mesmerized by the sight of her beneath him, acquiescent and expectant. "Oh Cora…," he whispered reverently.

Her blue eyes were fixed on him, her expression somewhere between delight and anxiety. He wondered if she knew what she was doing to him as she licked her lips with anticipation. Slowly he began to move within her, rejoicing in every sensation that he was certain only his wife could create for him. Other women might be able to satisfy his sexual desires, but only Cora could make it a spiritual experience for him as well. And she was doing that now.

She clinched around him and he glanced up at her face, smiling as he caught her smirk. "I love you," he said, tears gathering in his eyes.

"As I do you, my darling but please….you are torturing me," she replied before bucking against him, telling him to be a little quicker about it.

Once he began to stroke her in earnest, it wasn't long until they climbed the summit of ecstasy, their bodies exploding from the sweet tension. Once she had milked him dry, she stilled, his member still sitting limply within her if only just barely. He held himself over her trying to breathe again when he heard her chuckle.

Rolling off, he looked at her in confusion. She smiled at him and rolled to her side facing him. Her hand stroked his ear and into his hair, her shining eyes caressing him. "That was just so…" she paused as if thinking.

"So what?" he asked softly, worried that he might have fallen short of the mark in some way.

'So…lovely," she whispered.

Robert smiled at that. "It is you who is lovely, darling. And it is your loveliness that takes me to heights no other can. It is true we are getting older but when I am with you, I feel…"

She looked at him quizzically. "What do you feel?"

Looking into her blissful eyes, shining a bright blue, he leaned over to kiss her gently. "Ageless," he said as he settled back and stared contentedly into her face.

* * *

The little summer smut-a-thon seems to have stirred my brain, lol. I hope you enjoyed this little bit that popped into my brain last night. Please let me know;-)


	6. He Sees It

I read a Chelsie this morning and my brain went haywire, lol. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

He sees it. He knows not everyone else does though; she hides it well beneath her housekeeper attire and demeanor. But he sees it. She is beautiful; perhaps not beautiful in the way of the ladies of the house, grand and glamorous but still every bit as beautiful. When she turns her eyes toward him glistening and twinkling he melts; it can't be helped. He loves her. He has for a long time. He's uncertain as to when it began. Love for her was something that simply grew in his heart while he wasn't looking. But when it blossomed he couldn't deny it.

She isn't doing anything special as he watches her just now, simply talking to Daisy. The girl's expression changes from sadness and hurt to a smile. _She_ did that. Daisy nods happily as she speaks softly to the girl and they part. Daisy walks to the kitchen and she turns to move down the hall to her sitting room. He can't stop himself as he follows her, closing the door behind him once they are both in her room.

She turns and looks at him, questioning. "Mr. Carson?" Her voice betrays her surprise at his odd behavior.

He stands there, gawking. Words won't organize themselves in his mind so he gawks. She is so very beautiful to him that sometimes he just can't think straight. She tilts her head slightly, a shy smile forming on her lips and a slight blush coloring her checks. She knows what she does to him, he realizes. How long has she known? He wonders.

Her smiling countenance is changing to a worried one. He knows he needs to speak, say…something. Finding his voice, he takes a tiny step forward. "I thought…I wondered…" he can't finish; fear holds his tongue.

"You wondered?" she smirks at him.

Her smirk gives him courage. "I wondered if you might take tea with me tomorrow…in the village….away from here?" he manages.

"Tea? But surely…" she pauses, looks at him more closely and smiles. "That would be lovely," she says softly.

He feels as if his whole body is smiling. "Good…I mean, thank you…" he stumbles.

Her smile broadens. "Does this mean…no, I shouldn't…" She looks away, embarrassed.

Finding his courage and pushing aside his misgivings, he steps another step closer. "It means…I would like to…if it is alright, I'd like to.. for us to be…something more than butler and housekeeper… more than friends even." He grimaces at his awkwardness.

The brightest sunshine could not be any brighter than her face in that moment. "That would be very nice, Mr. Carson."

Suddenly he feels young again and so very, very happy. He swallows, digesting the surprise of her acceptance. "I…yes, I agree," he says before he turns to escape, unable to contain his excitement any longer.

"Oh, ?" Her voice stops him. He turns and looks at her expectantly. Mischief shines in her eyes as she continues. "Since you are in need of something to regain your bearing, I'll tell you that Daisy just informed me that Alfred is cooking again."

"What! A footman cooking?" he barks. Se very nearly chuckles in response and he softens immediately. "Thank you, Mrs. Hughes," he says as he turns and exits the room. Still, he fights the urge to dance down the hall as he returns to his duties.


	7. Putty

There is a season 4 picture of Cora floating around on Tumblr that caught my eye. She is looking older and sadder than any of the season 1 pictures of the character. It made me wonder what Robert would think as he looked at her, realizing what had caused some of the lines of sadness. That's where I started this little piece and it manipulated itself, becomming something a little different than what I had started out to write. Still, I hope you like it;-)

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She turned to look at him, giving him _that_ look, the one that always made his heart skip a beat before beating faster; the one that made him putty in her hands. All he could do was smile at her across the room, smile and wish the others would disappear.

She turned back to the conversation with his mother and Isobel, a faint smile still on her lips. She knew what she had done to him, the mush to which she had reduced him. Tom and Edith were chattering on about…something; he really couldn't be bothered by whatever it was they were saying. She had given him _that_ look so he sat quietly, studying the face of his wife.

The years were beginning to show, but only just… subtle hints, a smile wrinkle here, a line there, especially under the eyes. Tilting his head in contemplation, Robert couldn't decide if those tiny lines under her eyes were the result of her laughter or of the immense sadness that seemed to clothe the house the last two years. The blue that sparkled under her grief laden lids was still bright however, and that heartened him somehow.

Her hairstyle had gradually changed and Robert had to admit that he like the new look. It wasn't drastically different but it suited her, following the angles of her face to perfection…those angles that he had learned to know so well, and loved so very much.

Her lips…oh, her lips….no one would suspect what she was capable of with those lips. The sweet curves, the fullness, the warmth of them all combined to make his life pure heaven upon occasion. And judging from the expression on her face as she had glanced at him, he knew heaven might be his tonight; if only all these people would just go away.

Glancing from Cora's face to the faces of his mother and Isobel, he knew that one day hers would be as old and wrinkled as theirs. But to him, she would always be the most beautiful woman in the room. Hers was the face that would comfort him as he cultivated his own wrinkles. Her face had brought him so much happiness over the years and would continue to do so; hers and hers alone could brighten his day, bring joy or peace, hope and confidence.

He smiled when she glanced at him again, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she glanced at the clock and then back at him, silently conveying a short message; only a little longer…

Later, as she snuggled against him, both in recovery from their trip to the promised land, she cooed a question. "Why were you looking at me so intently in the drawing room earlier?"

Tightening his hold on her, he whispered back, his tone full of love. "I couldn't stop staring," he confessed. "There is nothing more interesting or more important to me than you."

"You made me nervous," she confessed. "I had the feeling you were looking at all my wrinkles."

"I was," he replied. "I was looking at them, along with your sparkling eyes and your lips that I believed needed my kisses. And I thought how very beautiful you are…have always been…will always be, to me. And I couldn't take my eyes away."

Her answering purr told him she was pleased by his response. "Careful," she said softly. "With statements like that, you might be called upon for a repeat performance."

Confused at first, Robert's brow furrowed. Then she stroked her hand across his manhood and all confusion fell away. "A performance I would be most happy to provide," he said as he nuzzled behind her ear to tease. "When shall we schedule this repeat performance?"

"Mmmmmm….." she cooed. "Would now be too soon?"

"My darling wife, your wish is my command," he replied as he leaned over to kiss her and once again became putty in her hands.


End file.
